Sunrise in the Night
by Titan Rebel
Summary: Rachel gets a mysterious illness. Now Tegan must go to Olympus for a quest, but her quest-mates are not normal Half-Blood Hill campers. Will they find the cause of this illness in time? Or will Tegan's past be the cause of the Oracle's downfall?
1. Prologue: One Stormy Night

**Hey guys, here's another story for ya, it may take awhile to update with the other projects I have on the go, but I wanted to get this prologue up.  
>Anyways, rated because I never know what to rate things and I like to be safe. So, R&amp;R please, CC is greatly appreciated and if you see any typos of just plain errors let me know.<br>Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Prologue: One Stormy Night<strong>

Every story of a half-blood begins with a death or a battle against multitudes of ferocious monsters. But I guess it just goes to show how different I am, even for a demigod.

My story began fourteen years ago when a woman realized the truth of her two-year-old daughter and the choice she made that would change that girl's life forever.

…

A loud wail sounded in the night awaking Reggie from her slumber. Rolling over, she saw the time on her clock flashing 2:49 AM. The wailing sounded again and reluctantly Reggie threw off her warm covers and clambered out of bed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming Tegan," she mumbled groggily as she took the heavy steps down the hall to her two-year-old's room.

She picked up the child from her small crib and held her in her arms, gently bouncing from one foot to the other in a soothing lull.

"Shh-shh, it's alright," Reggie assured Tegan, combing the infant's blond hair with her fingers.

Reggie's mind flashed back to a couple years ago when she had been performing with her now-split-up band in a small pub when she met him. He was a tall, handsome man with hair quite like the child's and a smile that shone like the sun; Tegan's father.

That was back in her college days; years wasted due to the unexpected pregnancy. She always wanted a daughter, but it was nights like these that bashed that dream. Nights when Tegan's cries were so severe that they awakened the whole floor in their New York apartment building. However, it was on this night, a stormy April night that Reggie couldn't take it any longer.

No matter how much Reggie attempted to sooth her young daughter she just continued to scream through the night; a long echoing that could be heard all along their block. Dogs barked in the distance and flocks of birds took flight to flee from the deafening sound. Reggie continued to rock her child in her arms to no avail, tears streaked her pale face and just as it reached the point when she could take it no longer it stopped.

Tegan seemed to be fast asleep in her mother's arms, her eyelids shut soundly and her body at ease, curled around her mother's torso. There was no more sound along the New York road. All was silent.

The mother took a long, deep sigh of relief and slowly began to place the child back in her crib. Just as the tips of Tegan's blond hair hit the pillow her eyes shot open. Startled, Reggie released her hold on the girl and let her fall the last half-foot to the mattress, stepping back in fright.

Breathing deeply, Reggie attempted to gather her bearings by taking deep breaths. Once her airflow returned to normal she took one, two, three hesitant steps back towards the crib. The sight that greeted her though, was not what she had anticipated.

Tegan's eyes were wide open, but they had transformed from their normal sky-blue to a deep, ominous shade of green. The infant was still for a while and then suddenly began to thrash back and forth uncontrollably, screaming like never before. Reggie found herself screaming in fright as she watched her child freakishly. Then, through her piercing screams, Tegan began to speak, which was an oddity for her vocabulary was extremely limited at this stage in life. Although, this voice was not her high-pitch tone that Reggie had grown accustom to hear shouting things like 'Mommy' or 'No!' This voice was a raspy one, as if coming from an old woman, but the child's voice still hung onto every syllable eerily, like an echo.

"Tegan?" Reggie asked, petrified.

Then she merely listen to her daughter as between screams she began to recite a sort of poem:

"_A Half-Blood of the eldest gods,  
>Shall reach sixteen against all odds.<br>And see the world in endless sleep,  
>A hero's soul cursed blade shall reap.<br>A single choice shall end his days,  
>Olympus to preserve or raze."<em>

It was as the final syllable rang out that the young girl began to wail again, out of sheer pain. But Reggie did not hasten to comfort her child, in those few seconds it took for the raspy voice to die out she had made a decision, a horrible, but necessary decision; she would abandon the baby.

Without so much as a word to anyone she threw on her spring coat and sneakers, and picked up Tegan, still wailing, to carry her outside.

The apartment was empty in the late night, and silent except for the child's cries, which reverberated agonizingly off the walls. The lock clicked on the door and Reggie made her quick decent to the ground floor, taking the stairs to avoid encountering someone.

Passing through the lobby the young security guard caught Reggie's gaze and frowned at the infant in her arms.

"Just taking her out for a bit of fresh air," she explained as she passed through the doors and into the cool night air.

As she drove through the dimly lit streets Reggie recounted that night, years ago, when Tegan's father returned to her.

It was Tegan's first birthday; Reggie's mother and sister had come from Pennsylvania to celebrate the glorious occasion.

The cake had been cut, and the presents had been received, when the three woman heard a knock on the door.

"That's weird," Reggie remarked, "Just give me a sec, probably that guy across the hall or something." She smiled, but the expression faded as she rounded the corner to the door and peered through the peephole. It was him.

Quickly gesturing for her family to wait one minute, she snuck out into the hall and shut the door behind her.

"What are you doing here?" Reggie demanded of her former lover.

"I wanted to wish Tegan a happy birthday," he gave a handsome smile, "And see you, of course."

"See me–wait–what–_how _do you know her name? You left! I waited for you, but you never came. How _dare _you–"

"Reggie, I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you then, but…but my father wouldn't let me…"

"You're father…What?"

"Listen," the man placed a caring hand on Reggie's shoulder and leaned in close. "I need to tell you before it's too late."

Reggie took a hesitant step back, only to find the wall blocking her path. "Tell me what?"

"I had to leave because…because I'm a god."

The woman stared at him in both shock and disbelief. What was he doing? "A…_god?_"

"Yes, now I know this is hard to believe, but Tegan…she's not like most children, even for one of _my _children."

"And who _are you_ exactly? You sired my daughter but _never _had the _decency_ to tell me you're name."

"Apollo," he removed his hand from her shoulder, "God of the sun, healing, archery, and music, oh, and not to mention prophecy."

"P–prophecy?" She stuttered.

Apollo nodded, "Yes, prophecy. You see, I _accidentally _gave Tegan a…how shall I put this? A _gift_ of a sort. As she grows up she may have…_fits._ Burst out a prophecy or two. When this happens I need you to make a choice."

He went on to explain that if she could no longer provide protection or handle the girl then she would have to bring her to someone who could.

"There's this camp on Long Island Sound. It's where children, like Tegan, go to train and be safe. It may be awhile before she needs to go there, but I have no doubt that there will come a time that you will not be able to care for her anymore, and at that time you must bring her to Camp Half-Blood so she can be safe."

For the longest time Reggie simply disregarded his warning and simply lived in peace, but it was on this night that his warning had come into effect. Tegan was beginning to prophecies things and she could no longer live in their apartment. So it was on this night that Reggie drove her daughter to Camp Half-Blood.

When she finally reached the curb in the road that Apollo had described Reggie pulled over and stepped out of the car. Scanning her surroundings, the woman saw field upon field of unknown crops, hills that rounded the rest of the forested landscape, gorgeous flowers scattering the roadside, but no camp, no sign of life other than plants, not even a farmhouse.

"No," Reggie breathed as a crack of thunder sounded overhead. A single tear found its way down her fair cheek and soaked into her dirty-blonde hair that had fallen over her face. "I thought for once you were telling me the truth." More tears streamed down her face as the rain began to pour in great heaps. Lightning lit up the sky and soon Reggie was not sure what were tears and what were raindrops.

She fell to her knees in anguish, her jeans coated with a thick layer of mud. What now was she to do? She couldn't care for her own daughter anymore; she was not a normal child and was beyond the care that Reggie could provide.

"I thought you were a _god…_So HELP ME!" She screamed, but no help came.

Unsure of what other options she had Reggie snatched the sleeping infant from the backseat, laid her down under the cover of a small maple and placed a light blanket over her innocent form.

"I'm sorry," Reggie whispered in her ear, bending down to place a kiss on Tegan's forehead. Her lips gave one last adoring press against her child and her fingers gave one last stroke to her blond locks, before she strode back to her car and drove off into the stormy night.


	2. Tegan: Just Another Day

**Here's Chpt. 1! This story is post-PJO, but without HOO, meaning no Romans or war with Gaea. Hope you like it!**

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><p><strong>This story is in memory of Shawn Nguyen, son of Apollo, who always put others before himself. You thought music could cure anything, and never failed to compliment me on my poems. Keep the beat going Shawn, you changed more lives than you'll ever know.<strong>

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE: Tegan: Just Another Day<strong>

"Look, Tegan, I don't _care_ what Conner told you, we do _not_ run a black market!" Travis Stoll annunciated every syllable to assure that the entire courtyard heard him. I stood facing him in the grass outside Cabin Eleven in the early afternoon. The hot June sun shone high in the sky with no clouds to disrupt its work. My father was enjoying himself today.

With a quick sweep of our surroundings I found that no one was watching us, they were either busy with their own conversations or out at training. "Uhu," I finally said, "Sure."

That was Travis' cue; he leaned in close and whispered so quietly that I had to strain to make out his words. "Meet me behind the archery shack after campfire. I'll have what you need."

I nodded and whispered just as quietly, "Thanks bud."

"Don't sweat it," the son of Hermes laid a hand on my shoulder, which I quickly pushed away. Although I was friends with nearly every child of Hermes, I didn't trust them for a second. When I was younger one of them had swiped my quiver and arrows. The only reason I ever got it back was because of the counselor, Luke Castellan, who had always shown a soft spot for my situation, but he was no longer around to help me out.

"So don't go breaking any strings on that guitar tonight, Tee," Travis was shouting again.

I couldn't help but stifle a small laugh, "Yeah, sure thing there." With that I left the Hermes domain and ventured back to my cabin.

Cabin Seven, of the Apollo children, was a normal log cabin, like you would find at other summer camps, coloured with a small, trampled garden edging the walkway. However, the wood was painted the most resilient shade of gleaming gold that shone ever so bright with each ray of sunlight reflecting off of it. It suggested a ball of gas, much like the sun, on earth.

As I made my way towards the open door I readjusted my bow and quiver, which were precariously thrown over my shoulder. These were something of which I was rarely seen without. I had grown so accustom to the danger of the unknown world that I would not let myself be caught defenseless. Ever since the war against the Titan's, three years ago, our camp had been caught in every turmoil imaginable; invasion, torture, mutilation, treachery, and most depressingly, casualties. My cabin had suffered most dearly in the Battle of New York when we had lost Michael Yew. He had been counselor for barely a year after Lee Fletcher was killed when our camp was invaded. They had both died fighting for our survival, and since then Cabin Seven had been caught in a never-ending wave of grief. William Solace, my half-brother and close friend had led our cabin through our misery, but not with great ease.

Although I have lived at camp since before I can remember I will never become counselor to this cabin. It is not a question of morals or experience, but a matter of will power and self-belief. Living in Cabin Seven for nearly fourteen years are not ideal growing conditions for a girl expected to lead. Living at camp year-round left me lacking in many areas; I had no parents to tuck me in at night, no proper school to attend during the year, no house to bring my friends to, and no _real_ family. My family consisted of all my half-siblings in Cabin Seven and the closest thing to a parent was Chiron, although it's hard to think of a centaur as your father. But why had my parent's abandoned me at such a young age? This was a question I often posed to Chiron in times of distress, but his answer was never in full. Fourteen years ago he had found me wandering through the dark forest just within the camp's boundaries. I was merely a weak toddler roaming the woods, shivering and crying for my mother. I was shaking immensely as Chiron led me to the Big House and nursed me back to health. He never met my mother, but I had reached the point years ago when I had no intention of meeting this woman, for whoever she is, she must be the very definition of evil. Who would be so heartless as to leave their child to die in the woods? Who would be so selfish as to not care for an innocent little girl?

"And my father?" I would ask Chiron after his brief explanation of my past.

"He's a god, Tegan. Apollo has many responsibilities and–"

"And what?" I would ask harshly. "And doesn't have the time of day in his pathetic immortal life to care for his own children?"

"_Tegan!_ You should not say such things about the sun god. I'm sure he wishes to see you, but cannot."

It had nearly been fourteen years since Chiron found me roaming the woods. Fourteen years living as a half-blood, training for the fight of my life. But in that time my father had made no attempt to contact me. Not once.

"You okay, Tee?"

I flashed back to reality to find myself slumped against my bed, my archery set scattered across the floor. My half-sister, Sarah, sat next to me, her dirty blond hair streaming down to her elbow. She brushed it behind her ear and turned wearily to me. "Tegan?"

Shaking my head I gradually returned to my senses. "Yeah," I replied a little too quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"About what?" She pressed me serenely.

Shrugging I mumbled my usual response, "Stuff."

Sarah threw her head back in a full hearty laugh, her smile gleaming like the sun. "You let me know when you want to talk about it, okay?" She tapped me lightly on the thigh and made her way out the door, still gleaming with laughter.

Sighing, I fell back on my bed, only to rise just as fast, and made my way slowly over to the full-body length mirror, which we had put up in the bathroom.

Removing the bright-red bandana that I regularly adorned, I began to brush the knots out of my long blond hair. Studying my appearance I yanked upon my denim shorts and tied my blouse at my waist, keeping the buttons undone. Finally I pulled down my tank top to cover my midriff and found myself satisfied with my appearance.

My reason for wanting to look decent today was simple; I was to lead an archery lesson for the new campers. Typically I avoided teaching other campers, and found it difficult to contain my laughter when I saw those lacking any skill with a bow and arrow. But it seemed that no matter how much I begged Chiron to relieve me of coaching duties he continued to assign them to me at least once a week; tough love, I guess.

Racing back to grab my equipment I made my way out the door, which still stood ajar, and down to the archery range. Just as I neared the proper path I felt a cool air descend behind me and sighed.

"Hey Rachel," I said just loud enough for anyone within a four feet radius to hear.

A shuffling of grass sounded just behind me, and a mane of red hair bounded into my sightline. "How is it you always know?" She spoke with a smile.

"Not sure, guess it's the whole _oracle presence_," I joked.

Laughing, she continued to follow me towards the shooting range. "So I hear you're teaching the beginner class now?"

"Yeah," I spoke reluctantly. "Such a joy, isn't it?" Even though we were almost four years apart in age, Rachel and I always seemed to hit it off.

She laughed again, "You don't sound too thrilled."

"Are you kidding? I _hate _dealing with these kids!"

"Oh, gee, thanks."

Confused, I shot her an intrigued look, "You're kidding? Is our oracle finally learning how to shoot?"

Nodding, she spoke shyly, "Yeah, Chiron figured Percy's sword fighting lessons aren't enough."

"Nice," I laughed, "Maybe this won't be so boring after all." Patting her jovially on the back we progressed through the bush to the shooting range.

…

The class was a decent size; enrollment seemed to increase every year since the battle of New York, what with all the gods suddenly claiming their forgotten children. People had come from all over North America to attend our little summer camp, and quite frankly, the cabins were getting a little crowded for my liking. Who'd of thought that one man could have sired so many kids.

As Rachel and I approached the shooting range we found about a dozen eager eyes staring at us, ranging from merely eight-years-old to around my age, fifteen.

"Hi guys," I greeted them as I began to unlock the archery shack, where all the equipment was stored. "My name's Tegan and I'll be your coach. Call me 'Tee' if you like." Smiling, I began to hand out bows, trying to match the proper size to each person. "In this course you'll be using the smaller bows, but as you progress in skill you may move up to the longbows," I held up mine own. "The concept of archery is pretty easy; hit the target. But the technique takes years to master."

"Unless you're Apollo's kid," a rather smug-looking boy whispered to his friend not-too-quietly.

"Right you are," I pointed an arrow haphazardly in his direction. "However, I'm yet to see any of you in my cabin, so we'll just have to start from scratch." I went on to describe the proper technique used to hit the bulls-eye; raising your notched arrow to eye-level and how far to pull on your string. With my first shot I hit the dead-centre of the bulls-eye, causing my student's mouths to drop with amazement.

"Okay," I sighed, "Your turn. Any volunteers?" I looked around for a hand to shoot up, but none did, so I pointed at the smug little boy. "You, what's your name?" I asked complacently.

"Rudy," he answered curtly, stepping forward to the shooting line.

"Alright, Rudy, let's see what chya got." I stepped back, allowing him room to shoot. "Raise your arrow to eye-level, that's right. Keep your body sideways, like that. Okay, pull back on your string, and….fire."

His arrow went flying at the target and flew past the range into the dense forest.

A chorus of snickering followed this shot.

"That's okay, that's okay," I managed through hidden laughter. "We'll get that later. Who's next?"

And so it went for the next few hours; I critiqued each and everyone's shot and gave them feedback as to how to fix what they did wrong. Within no time I had the whole class shooting at once, and most of the arrows didn't go flying off.

It was nearing the end of the lesson when Rachel made a request, "How about we have a competition, coach?" She asked me playfully. "You against all of us," she gestured to the rest of the class.

I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it, "You do realize I'm outnumbered?"

"Yes," Rachel chided, "But you're also a more skilled archer. Or are you chicken?"

For a moment I glared at her before answering with a long sigh, "Well if you insist Miss Dare."

So I spent the remainder of class beating my students fifteen points to three.

"Okay," I announced, "One more shot each, then we got to pack it in. Rachel." I motioned for the redhead to take her shot, but she seemed distracted, curled over as if her stomach hurt. "Rachel," I said a bit louder, "You're up."

"Oh," she slightly straightened, only to keel back over.

"Rachel, are you okay?" Slinging my bow and quiver over my shoulder I rushed to her aid.

"I–I'm fine…" And that's when the oracle collapsed.

The younger students began to scream or cry out. "What's wrong with her?" "She's dead!" "I want to go home!" "What do we do?"

"_Quiet!_" I ordered them, kneeling by Rachel's side, cradling her head in my hand, checking for a pulse, breath, anything to tell me that she was okay, but found nothing. "You," I pointed to one of the older campers, a boy that I had seen before, but did not know his name. "Go find William Solace. Bring him here as fast as you can. Tell him to bring adrenalin." The boy stared at me dumbfounded. "_Now!_"

"Rachel, come on…Listen to me." I tried slapping her face a few times, but it was no use. Resulting to standard first aid, I pulled out the pocket-mask, that I always carried in my quiver, and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It had a certain rhythm to it that I easily fell into, for I had done it so many times before. Two breaths, thirty compressions, two breaths, thirty compressions, two breaths…

It went on like that for some time, during which I sent the younger campers back to their cabins and had one of the older ones perform a head-to-toe examination to try to find what was wrong with her, but it was no use.

Eventually Will showed up with his medical kit. He kneeled on the opposite side of Rachel and watched me as I tried in vain to get her heart going. "The adrenaline's in the bag, I'll take over CPR," he told me and I did not hesitate to obey his command. We had worked together for so long that we knew what the other was thinking almost automatically. So as Will continued mouth-to-mouth I rustled through his bag until I found a long silver case, which we only used in emergencies. Inside it was a large syringe with a long needle under a cap. Without hesitation I pulled off the cap and jabbed the needle into Rachel's chest. Her ribs were long-since broken, so it was not as difficult as it usually would be, but there was still the fact that I was stabbing a friend to get through my head.

With one more round of CPR the Oracle of Delphi let loose a raspy cough and she began to breath again.

Relieved, I looked up at Will to find his blond hair in a shaggy disaster and his sky blue eyes, similar to mine, filled with concern, not only for Rachel, but for me.

"Come on," he told me, "Let's get her to the infirmary."

Nodding, I raced into the equipment shack to grab a compact stretcher that I had the Hephaestus kids design for an occasion like this. Will and the guy I sent to fetch him carefully lifted Rachel onto the stretcher and carried her away to be treated.

I made to follow them, quickly locking up the archery shack, when Will shouted back at me, "Don't even think about it, Tegan."

"What?" I asked, innocently.

"Go back to the cabin and tell Sarah what happened."

"But –"

"You've done enough already," he assured me. "Just do what you're told for once in your life."

"Fine," I said reluctantly and made my way back up the hill to Cabin Seven. By the time I got there it seemed like half the camp knew about the incident at the shooting range.

Passing by multitudes of curious campers I was bombarded with a series of endless questions. "Is it true that Rachel's dead?" "The Oracle got shot?" "Why'd you stab Rachel?" "That redhead chick has cancer?"

Ignoring the stream of ridiculous theories I pushed past the crowd into my cabin and slammed the door, causing a slightly louder noise than intended. Turning away from the solid wood I found over a dozen pairs of eyes fixated on me.

"Tegan?" A small voice asked from off to the side. It was Amy; a little Spanish girl no older than nine. Last year, when she arrived at camp for the first time, she had taken rather a liking to me, and I to her. I think it had something to do with her age; the fact that she was living her childhood at a training camp, just as I did, except she had been granted four more years of a normal life than me.

I stared at Amy for a moment, as if she was some foreign instrument that I had never seen before, and was enticed by the music. Then with a jolt I returned to reality. "I'm sorry Amy. I'm just having a bad day." I kneeled down to look the girl in the eyes, took her hands and gave her a light kiss on the cheek before standing up again and scanning the room until I located Sarah.

She was sitting oddly on the piano bench, as if she had just been interrupted during a piece.

I jutted my chin towards her and motioned for her to follow me. Without bothering to make sure she was behind me I made my way up the stairs to the second floor. Up there was merely a small room that the older campers used for meetings. It was littered with beanbag chairs and a retro-looking sofa in the corner.

I froze in place, staring out a small window on the far side and waited until Sarah stood beside me. She was two years older than me, but she had this demeanor about her that could pass her off as being in her twenties.

"So I take it you didn't lash out in anger and shoot Rachel?" She asked me sarcastically.

I couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle, "No." Taking a deep breath I began to explain what happened. "She was fine, but then…all of a sudden she collapsed. Will brought her to the infirmary and she's stable, but beyond that…" I trailed off, unable to grasp the fact that my friend could be lying on her deathbed right now.

Sarah slung a warm arm around me, and pulled me into a tight embrace. "It's okay, sweetheart," she assured me, rubbing my back like she had always done to comfort me.

For a moment I let her hold me as I gazed out the window and watched the setting sun. "Looks like he's settling in for night," I remarked.

Releasing her grip, Sarah turned to the window and said, "What do you mean?"

"Apollo," I pointed at the setting sun.

"No, I mean, since when does our dad _settle down_?" She joked.

I couldn't help but release a small laugh, "Yeah, you have a point there." Pushing away from my sister I started towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

Turning, I smiled at her, "Grabbing Roxy. Campfire's right after dinner, and I've been doing _way_ too much singing lately. Time to do some accompaniment, I think."

With that, I turned away from Sarah and raced down the stairs to find my pride and joy, my guitar.

Roxy, my guitar, was a present from my siblings for my thirteenth birthday. After the war, when everyone was trickling back to camp from Manhattan, Will came to me holding a ruby red guitar. The hole in the body was the shape of the shining sun and the sounds was so magical it caused the birds to cease singing to enjoy the music. He explained that when things were getting really bad at camp he, with the help of the other Apollo and Hephaestus kids, built the most magnificent instrument just for me.

"But…why?" I had asked in disbelief.

"Because you deserve it…and I know you don't have the money to buy your own," he replied with a smile.

It was at that moment, when the heat rose through my fair skin, causing me to blush that I was happy for the first time in years.

My reasoning for naming the guitar 'Roxy' was beyond my comprehension. I just liked the name.

Skipping the last few steps, I landed with a thud on the wooden floor and took five long strides over to my bunk. Pulling back the bed skirt I pulled Roxy out from under my bed. I felt a hand up and down the smooth strings once and began to play. It was a simple tune, somewhere along the lines of _Stand By Me_ but with a little bit of a country twang to it like Shania Twain's _Forever and For Always_.

Sarah descended the steps not too long after me, her face expressionless. Everyone in the cabin ceased their activities; namely playing various instruments or reading and writing poetry, and turned to face her.

Sarah was second-in-command after Will, so whenever he was busy at the infirmary, which was the vast majority of the time, she was in charge.

She didn't say a word as the dinner bell sounded, merely led the way out the door. There were no new Apollo kids yet, so we all knew the routine, but I wasn't in the mood to follow suit.

"Aren't you coming, Tegan?" My younger brother, Darren, asked me, as he trailed in the back of the line.

"Not today, bud," I answered through strums of the strings.

"Oh," with that the boy solemnly hurried to catch up.

"It seems that everybody's a bit put-out today," I mumbled to myself while stumbling upon the chorus to one of my favourite songs, and I couldn't help but belt it out; a flaw of my heritage.

"_I dream of a stairway to the skies.  
>My angel is coming down from heaven to take me.<br>I reach out but then you fade away.  
>Whenever you call for me<br>Know that I'm only one step behind."_

…

Although I didn't attend supper I was not hungry in the slightest. The image of Rachel keeling over into a motionless lump flooded my every thought and that with the addition of my ADHD caused for little room for rest. I couldn't think, couldn't do anything but lie there. It came to the point that even the gentle lull of Roxy's song was too much for my cluttered brain to handle.

I needed to get out of this cabin, fill my head with fresh air maybe indulge in some company of the only person I wished to talk to in a situation like this; Will.

When I stepped outside into the courtyard the campers were making their way back to the cabins in preparation for the campfire later on. The dense thicket of people made it easy for me to hide in the crowd. Whenever I spotted someone who wished to talk I simply ducked around a confused newbie and out of sight.

Within a few minutes I was out of the crowd and headed towards the Infirmary. Now, the infirmary is really just this huge cloth tent on the outside; it could almost pass for a war tent, but really it was made fully equipped against any form of attack on the camp. It's the safest place for any demigod.

It really was built halfway through the Titan War when the sickrooms in the Big House proved too small a space for the wounded. My siblings and I were complaining about the horrible working conditions for months before anything was done about it. When the war was finally over the children of Hephaestus, with a little help from the Athena cabin, finished the place for us, and it's been the Apollo haven ever since.

Once I reached the patio of the farmhouse I made a direct right across the small bridge that led straight to the doors of the infirmary. Opening the thick flaps I found only a handful of campers. An older camper was lying in the cot on my direct left, his head bandaged with thick gauze stained red with blood. A brunette girl was sitting a few beds down, her arm prepped for casting, but the materials to finish the job sitting unwanted on the bedside table. The healer who had been tending to her was preoccupied helping with an unconscious girl in the back; Rachel.

"Will," I spoke slightly louder than intended. He was deep in conversation with the other healer, Kerry, but when he heard my voice his blue eyes shot up as they always did, that worried look splayed across his nearly-invisible eyebrows.

"Tegan," his jaw hung low as if he didn't expect my intrusion. On cue Kerry left Rachel's bed and made her way back to the girl with the injured arm.

Every step weighing more than the last, I slowly made my way towards the unconscious form of my once lively friend, and my brother, my irritating, undeniably handsome brother. Damn Apollo for his looks. Will slightly raised his gaze to watch my progression.

Ignoring him I stopped at Rachel's bedside and stared at her unconscious form. She was hooked up to so many machines, and the beeping of the heart monitor signified her unnaturally slow pulse.

Placing a hand on hers I could feel her health draining; the life leaving her body and even the oracle fighting to escape from this cocoon of pain. She would not survive this; there was nothing Will, me, or any other healer could do to help her, but this was a reality that I was not willing to admit.

"We have to do something, Will," I breathed, still stroking Rachel's pale hand.

"Like what?" He asked, though I could tell he was only humoring me, he had long given up hope.

"I don't know…We can combine our powers," I shot up with newfound integrity. "All us healers together! We can help her, Will, I know we can."

The momentary smile vanished from my face as my brother strode towards me, a grave expression displayed upon his face.

"Tegan, listen to yourself. You know better than that. There is _nothing_ that we can do," he placed his tan hand on my shoulder as I sunk to the ground, my knees curling to my chest protectively. His hand fell and I tucked my head into my legs as the tears began to stream from my eyes. The bed was hard on my spine, though that pain was minimal in comparison to the hole in my chest.

I felt Will's strong arms wrap around me, pulling me in tight towards his body. The heat of his torso emanated from him into my cold core, but that didn't stop the tears from pooling.

"I'm sorry Tegan, I'm so sorry," he placed his chin on my head only for me to push it up again as I hastened to gather myself together.

Brushing the tears from my eyes I noticed a pair of feet slowly stride towards us. They were adorned in red sneakers, tan legs formed above them, denim shorts, orange camp shirt, shaggy black hair. Although water still clouded my vision I was able to recognize Percy Jackson easily.

Retying my blouse as I stood I could feel his intense gaze stream past me and onto Rachel. "So it's true," he spoke with a distasteful tone, and his gaze drifted accusingly to me.

It was typical of Percy to place the blame on me. We had never gotten along; he was this arrogant son of Poseidon who everyone thought was so great. Sure he was invincible, but that was just because he was stupid enough to swim in the River Styx. I wasn't jealous, I just wasn't a fan of the dude, it's not my fault that he has a tendency of landing in my line of fire.

"I better go," I said softly to Will, but of course Percy heard me.

"What is it Tegan? Don't want to face me? I knew you had it in for me, but _this?_ I thought you were above that…I guess I was wrong."

Only Will's hands kept me from shooting the guy where he stood. "You think _I_ did this?" I asked in disbelief. "You honestly think I would hurt Rachel to get at _you?_"

"Of course that's what I think, Tegan. You are so impulsive and unpredictable, I told Chiron not to let you teach her."

"My gods Percy. I knew you were an idiot with a wild imagination, but to think up a story like this you must really be lacking upstairs," I tapped my temple sarcastically.

"So you're denying it then?"

"Of course I'm _denying _it, because it's not true! Even if I did want to get at you I would _never_ use Rachel to do it. I may not agree with her pick of friends, but that doesn't mean I would kill her! If I wanted to hurt anyone Percy, it would be you. A simple arrow to your Achilles heel and your life would be at an end."

"Are you threatening me?" He took an ambitious step towards me.

"Maybe I am, what are ya` gonna` do about it, sweetheart?"

"Okay guys!" The two of us had come so close together that Will had to physically push us apart. "Percy, you know this wasn't Tegan's fault," he turned from Percy to me, "Tegan, please stop trying to pick fights. If you need to take out your anger go to the shooting range. Okay?"

Percy and I let out reluctant notes of agreement.

"Good," Will pushed back his blond locks before taking me by the shoulders and escorting me out. At first my feet wouldn't move for they were glued to the floor, but with a word from my brother I was taking it slowly towards the entrance flap. Once we were outside Will took me to the side and stared deep into my eyes. "Tee, I know you're upset, but do me a favour and stay out of trouble. I get enough patients in here as is, I don't need you sending me anymore," he said with a slight chuckle.

"Okay," I assured him, though my gaze remained fixed on the ground.

"I worry about you kid, you know I do."

"I know," I let my gaze falter from the ground up to his chest.

He pulled me in close, stroking my bandana right off my head.

"Hey," I protested. "Give it back!"

But he just shoved it in his pocket and with a curt smile, vanished back into the infirmary undoubtedly to deal with a pissed off hero.

Combing my blond tresses back, I solemnly made my way back across the bridge and towards the amphitheatre for the sing-along, maybe there I would be wanted.


	3. Logan: Ocean Spray

**Before you ask, the character Logan was not named because of the actor who plays Percy Jackson (Logan Lerman) I simply like the name, and have thought about writing about this character since before he was cast. Here's chapter 2 for anyone that might be following this story. I know I've been putting it off due to _An Enemy Unknown_, but I've decided to come back to it, cause I'm excited to write this one! R&R please!  
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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO: Logan: Ocean Spray<strong>

The water streamed across my face in a spray of pure bliss. The black mane that was my hair cascaded across my face as I entered yet another massive wave, head down as I maneuvered my board over the water. The ocean was where I belonged, what was the point in anything else? This was my home, as the current roared beneath me nothing existed but the salty taste of the sea in my mouth and the wind blowing across my face in a friendly embrace.

It was a regular occurrence of mine to spend countless hours riding the waves off the shore of Bondi Beach. More than once had I been caught out there while I was supposed to be elsewhere, namely school, and this was yet another one of those occasions.

After spiraling through a rather high tunnel wave I couldn't help but notice a familiar figure waving their arms at me and shouting something like, "Logan! Logan over here! Come to shore!"

Taking one last wistful look at the horizon I reluctantly paddled my way back to shore.

"Took you long enough! What, are you're ears filled with seaweed or something?" Genille joked as soon as I stepped onto land, surfboard under my arm.

"Good to see you too," I laughed, tussling her short brown hair as I walked past. Genille's my older sister, well, half-sister considering we have different fathers. We both live with my mom in Bondi most of the time, but on the odd occasion Genille makes the long drive to the Sydney to visit her dad. Mum use to live there with him, until a certain man stepped in and sired me, and Mum made her escape closer to the ocean.

"Hurry up already and get in the car, Logan, you're suppose to be at school," my sister continued to pester me as we made our way up the beach.

I love my sister for so many reasons; first of all she has a car, so she can drive me pretty well everywhere, and doesn't mind if I borrow it sometimes, although technically I'm not old enough yet; then there's also the fact that she never rattles me out for not being at school, she thinks it's just fine going surfing in the dead of winter instead of being at school. But the biggest reason why she's pretty cool is because not once has she told someone about my lineage, not even her father.

Now, when I say lineage I'm not talking about being some stuck-up royalty or anything, but my lineage being Greek…ancient Greek.

"So I guess you're here to take me home, get me changed, and turn me in to the principal?" I asked wearily, loading my board into the back the car.

Genille avoided my gaze, "I wish, Logan…I wish."

"What?"

"Just get in the car," she urged me, rolling her eyes.

"But–"

"Get. In." With a slam of the driver's door that was the end of it.

"I'm going to dad's this weekend," Genille finally spoke when we were but five minutes from our house.

"Okay…" This was nothing new for her, she went there pretty well every time she was home from school.

"And you're coming with me."

"What?"

Rolling her eyes again, she began to explain, "Mum got a call today from the Academy." She said the word with such fear and contempt, almost as if she was jealous of me. I didn't understand why, she was well aware of what perspired whenever I was at the Academy, and how much I dreaded going there.

"What did they want?" I asked hesitantly.

"Mum wouldn't say. Only that they want you there as soon as possible," she glanced over at me furtively, as if she was trying to pick up a hint from my expression, but my face was stone cold.

I merely stared at the glove compartment in shock, trying to make sense of it, they hardly ever had me come there during the school year, so why now?

"But I couldn't help but overhear mum saying something about someone being sick. I think her name was Cara–er–Sarah…"

"Vara!" I shot out of my seat in horror.

"Yeah…why? Is she a friend of yours?"

"Well…I know her, yeah. I mean," I tried to explain our difficult relationship to my sister, but couldn't. The best I could do was, "She's the Oracle."

I guess here's a good time to explain to you exactly what the Academy is. You see, there are quite a few people in the world with certain gifts acquired from our not-so-ordinary parents; the Greek gods. The reason I can go surfing when no one else can is because I can control the water. All thanks to my father, Poseidon, god of the sea. I first received a letter from the Academy just over five years ago when I was eleven. It read something along the lines of:

_Dear Logan Tyler,_

_Congratulation, you have been selected by the Head Board of Greek Legacies to attend The Academic School for Greek Legacies located in Sydney, Australia. If you were not formerly aware of your lineage I am happy to inform you that you are one of the many children of Poseidon, god of the sea. Keep your sword sharp because you will soon die or watch all around you perish._

Okay, so maybe it didn't say that last bit, but it might as well have. Ever since I was accepted to the Academy my life has been a whirlwind of monsters, wars, magic, and of course, gods.

"The Oracle? Like the Oracle of Delphi?" Of course after my acceptance Genille made it her duty to memorize every single piece of Greek Mythology so that she could help me, she even went to school as for Archeology and takes regular trips to Greece for digs. She's helped me out of a lot of unfortunate situations, including, but not limited to, killing a hydra, tricking Janus, the god of choices, into not deciding, and of course, a surprise visit from a jealous Cyclops on my birthday.

"That's the one," I amended her with a nod of the head.

By that time Genille was pulling the car up in our driveway. "We'll talk more on the way there. Now go grab your stuff," she ordered, stepping out of the van. "Five minutes and I want to be on the road. Got it?"

"Sure thing," I waved back at her as I raced into the house and into my bedroom.

"Logan? Is that you?" My mother's voice sounded through the house as I threw some jeans into my tattered backpack.

"Yeah, Mum!" I called back to her.

Within seconds she was in my doorway, leaning against the frame nonchalantly. "I take it Genille told you–"

"That the Academy called?" I cut in frowning. "Yeah, she told me." Attempting to ignore the subject I continued to stuff my backpack full of essentials; toothbrush, deodorant, Slider.

Oh yeah, on that note; Slider is my celestial bronze sword. It has probably saved my life just as many times as Genille. Sure, it's not very compact for easy transport, even if it could shrink to the size of a pen or something...a pen that always came back to my pocket if I lost it...but let's be reasonable here!

"The director mentioned something about your friend Vara," Mum spoke hesitantly, as if she was already imagining what horrors awaited me at the Academy.

"Yeah...so I heard..."

"You what?"

Of course I had spoken without thinking. _Sorry Genille_, I thought. "I mean-er...you know what Mum?" I gave my best reassuring smile, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'll let you know how things are when I get there, okay?" Placing a hand on my mother's back I veered her out of my room and towards the front door, where Genille stood with her own bag already packed.

"Alright," my mother said reluctantly placing a good-bye kiss on my cheek. "But if things get too rough over there you call right away for back-up okay? I don't want to see you again with a broken limb or anything, not if I can help it."

That's my mother; the trusty back-up and part time nurse.

I laughed, "Thanks Mum. I'll try not to break anything this time."

"I'll call you when I get to Dad's," Genille assured her, giving her a tight squeeze.

"Drive safe," Mum replied serenely. "Oh and for goodness sakes Logan, wear your jacket! I don't care what the water feels like to you, even if you stay completely dry! It's cold season for us mortals, and you're not invincible to that."

"Sure Mum."

On that note we were off and on our way to Sydney.

...

"So...about Vara," Genille finally brought up the subject that I'd been dreading. I knew it was inevitable that she would ask about it, she had he right to, but that didn't make me like it anymore.

"Are you and her," she went on hesitantly glancing over at me curled in a ball in the passenger's seat. "You know...are you...close?"

I shrugged, "I guess so...I mean...Remember my first quest? That weird prophecy I told you about?"

I waited for my sister to start resigning the thing, but she merely nodded.

"Yeah, well that was one of her first prophecies. For the longest time we didn't even have an Oracle, just our director sending us off on so-called quests."

"Without an Oracle? But the Oracle of Delphi has always been within a fair young maiden," Genille recited for her studies.

"Yeah, well not until recently as far as I know. There was a rumor that Hades cursed the Oracle years back, but that can't be true! If that were true then Vara couldn't be the Oracle."

"Hmmph," was all she had to say to that.

After sitting in the eerie silence for far too long I couldn't take it any longer. "So do you have any plans with your dad?" It was a pathetic attempt at conversation, but it was the best I could do.

Genille paused before she answered, fingering the steering wheel with anticipation. "Um, no, not really. I made some plans to hang out with Jane though," she shrugged speaking of her childhood friend.

"Oh. That's cool."

For the remainder of the trip we rode in silence, Genille occasionally cranking up the volume to her favourite songs. Unfortunately for my eardrums my sister does not entirely have an angelic voice. She more so sounds like a wailing donkey, but nonetheless I couldn't help but smile.

...

"Here we are," Genille finally announced, pulling up alongside a boarded-up building. It seemed to have been a store at one point, the sign long-gone, and the inside evidently empty and deserted. The door was plastered with graffiti so thick that it was illegible, that is, for those who were blinded by the mist.

Taking a deep shaky breath I snatched my backpack from the backseat, along with Slider, and opened the car door to the gleaming Australian sun.

Just as I began to step out of the car Genille said, "You want me to come with you?"

"You know you can't," I shrugged, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"Yeah," she sighed, " I know. Be careful there bud."

Smiling, I threw my hands in the air sarcastically, "Always am, aren't I?"

Laughing, Genille started up the engine and I shut the door. Just before she drove away I noticed her eyes dart towards the building behind me and her smile faded.

I waited until Genille turned the corner and was out of sight to make my way towards the vandalized door. Up close mortals would see a padlocked door, but as a half-blood I could see through the mist. Instead of a lock I flipped open a small lid, like the type that you see covering a fire alarm, to view a number pad. Although, instead of numbers there were Greek symbols: alpha, beta, the usual.

I did a quick over-the-shoulder check to hoping for a break from monsters, but of course there was a creepy old lady watching me from across the road.

"Shit!" A creepy old lady glaring at you is never a good sign, particularly for a half-blood. She might as well have been have been shouting, "Tasty half-blood come here! I want to eat you!" Typical monster thought process. The more powerful of a half-blood you are, the stronger your scent, and the more monsters come after you. Unfortunately for me, being a child of any of the Big Three is as powerful as you can get.

My first reaction was to draw Slider and dual the old hag one-on-one, but a voice burned in the back of my mind. "Only the bravest warrior knows when to fight, and when to run." Vara told me that just before I went on that first quest. It wasn't a prophecy, just a friend helping a friend. I guess that's why I remembered it so well.

I could defeat her easily. What was one monster to a son of the sea god? But I was so close to the Academy, so close to the only safe place in the world for me...

Spinning hastily back to the number pad I typed in the code by reflex, but before I could open the door a voice sounded behind me.

"Logan, look out!"

In a flash of adrenaline I drew Slider and sliced through the air behind me only for my blow to be intercepted by a large club. Grasping it was the old woman I had seen across the road, but instead of straggly whisks of grey hair from her head sprouted needled vines and her wrinkled skin was the texture of tree bark.

"What are you, a deranged nymph?" I asked, frantically searching for the source of my alarm.

The nymph-lady hissed, "You demigods are pa–"

Before she could finish that thought a loud crack sounded and from her chest sprouted the tip of a bronze sphere. Amongst the blood I caught sight of an all-too familiar trades mark.

"Close one, there man," a powerful hand roughly patted my back.

Laughing I sheathed Slider. "Hey, James," smiling I patted my friend on the back. "It wasn't that close. I could have taken her."

"Oh yeah, sure. I just had to test out my launch pad," He gestured across the street to where a contraption was set up, some sort of spring-board.

"Mission accomplished."

"I'd say!" He stared in awe at his own handy work, dirty-blond locks falling over those beady eyes. It seemed all of his siblings had that same eager expression, like they were always looking for flaws in everything in sight; something that needed to be fixed.

The first time I met James he had almost killed me. It was my third summon to The Academy and I was just unpacking my things when a miniature helicopter came crashing into my room. Okay, when I say miniature I don't mean a kid's toy, but a fully equipped helicopter about the size of a twin bed. But the propellers were made out of jagged celestial bronze blades, and it was coming straight for me. Battle reflexes kicking in I fell to the ground to avoid the foreboding blades, but in doing so I threw my bag in the air and my belongings were torn to shreds.

"Ah no! Sorry about that man," James had apologized, racing into the room, remote control in hand. "Test drives, you know?"

I didn't understood what he meant then, and I haven't ever since.

"Vara's on the top floor. Last door on the left," James explained as he gathered his equipment. It wasn't until he spoke that I realized I was staring at he number pad. "Want me to show you?"

I looked at my friend for a moment, those eager eyes darting from me to the number pad and back. "No," I said with a quick shake of the head. "I'll manage." With that I pressed the enter button on the pad and a green light shone from the door revealing Greek writing that my dyslexic/Greek brain read as _The Academy_, and the door swung open.

As soon as I stepped through the threshold a shiver ran up my spine. The Academy was nothing like I remembered from my last visit. The old tacky furniture from the front foyer had been replaced with sleek modern chairs and a plasma hanging up in the corner next to the winding staircase. To my left was the demigod lounge where all us heroes liked to kick back and relax or plan for battle, whichever came first. To my right was the ominous door to the director's office; tall and oaken it glowed with names of the fallen heroes from wars past. The biggest change came from the number of half-bloods: there were dozens! Crammed into ever nook and cranny on the main level stood countless kids ranging from as young as elementary school to people who looked to be in their mid-twenties. Some faces I recognized, but most I didn't.

"Oh yeah, we've been recruiting like mad these last few months," James said off-hand as he entered behind me. "Ever since that incident in New York with the Titans the director's been paranoid that it's going to happen here."

James spoke as if it was unthinkable, but the Battle of New York was top on the demigod newsfeed. Everyone, even those not at the Academy at the time, had heard of the half-blood in Manhattan defeating Kronos, the god of time, and stopping his army. It happened there, who's to say it wouldn't happen here?

"Hmph." I shrugged off the idea, trying to maintain James's level of composure. "You said Vara was on the top floor?"

"Yeah," he had to readjust his armful of equipment to keep it from falling. "But aren't you going to drop off your stuff first?"

"Um, no, I think I'll go see how she's doing first."

"Alrightie," he smirked, "Just don't get too comfortable with the girl, if you know what I mean." He nudged my arm, giving me one of his classic cheeky smiles.

"Oh, rack off James," I sneered lightheartedly as I ascended up the winding staircase, hand held fast to the strap of my backpack as if I was holding on to life itself.

At the top of the stairs I could still hear the chatter of the new recruits from below. They spoke of their new-found lineage and dreams of quests to come. How could they be so happy? Didn't they realize the amount of danger they were in?

I have a theory: there are two reactions one can have to finding out they are a half-blood. Either "That's wicked! I can't wait to take on some crazy-ass monsters with 500 attack points!" or "What? No! You must have the wrong person, I'm nothing special, just...Please, I don't want to die."

The later was more or less my reaction to the news. Of course, after that incident when i was nine with Genille in the shark tank at the aquarium I became a little suspicious of who I was, but no one can ever expect their life to become this. Half-bloods are forced into a world of war and tragedy with no means of escape. The icing on the cake for me was that I'm a child of the Big Three: Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. The more powerful your parent is, the more danger you are in. Every step I take, every corner I turn I'm greeted by a ferocious monster ready to suck the life out of me. Why would anyone want that?

As I continued up flight after flight of stairs I glanced down each hallway where all the bedrooms were located. Some were crowded just like the lounge, with new faces and old, while some were eerily quite with the odd sound of a whimper. I thought about seeking out the weeping soul, but thought better of it. Nothing like a weapon-laden son of Poseidon to terrify a new recruit.

The rooms were assigned in no particular order, but mostly on a first come, first serve basis. So the campers who had been here the longest had the rooms on the lower floor, while the new recruits were place higher up. That placed me on the fourth floor. The only exception to that rule was Vara, since she wasn't entirely a half-blood she got a delux sweet next to the director's office. She appeared out of the blue a few years ago; a lonely girl off the streets with an uncanny ability to see through the mist. The director, of course, didn't believe her at first when she explained that she was the Oracle of Delphi, but after her eyes went completely green and her voice went all raspy prophesying a daughter of Ares' demise his opinion was quick to change. The following week a girl was on her way to the Academy for the first time, but was struck down by a hellhound. It was with the burning of the Ares shroud that Vara's place in the Academy was made permanent.

There were thirteen floors to the Academy, thirteen flights of stairs that were used as a morning workout for us. Up and down at least three times or you were stuck on dish duty, and trust me you do not want to be stuck on kitchen duty. If you've ever stuck your hand into a fireplace then you may begin to understand the heat of the water. After staying at the Academy for a few months the stairs became simple, but after being at home for that time, with nothing but surfing in the ice-cold water to keep me in shape I grew tired at floor 5. By the time I reached the top floor I was breathing so hard I thought I would pass out, but a quick glance towards the end of the hall shook me back to reality.

A girl stood there, looking out the window with her shoulders sagging. Her short blond hair was a dead giveaway she was a daughter of Apollo, the light of his lineage shone dimly around her slender body.

"Marion?" I spoke, quietly approaching her from behind.

Startled, she spun to face me. Her face was pale-white and under those sad blue eyes were dark circles from obvious sleep deprivation.

"Logan," her voice was quiet, quite the opposite of her usual demeanor. This was the girl that called me out on my first day at the Academy as a "Self-absorbed son of Poseidon who doesn't even know the difference between an arrow and a bow!" Over the years I had grown quite fond of her attitude and even sometimes understood the sarcastic tone that always played out in her voice.

Her steps were shaky as she met me in the middle of the hall and I let her fall into my arms.

"I'm so sorry," she spoke with heavy breaths, as if she was the one who just climed 13 flights of stairs instead of me.

"It's not your fault," I said, stroking her arms slightly as she recuperated herself. "What happened?"

"A few days ago. She was just sitting at dinner when she started to get stomach pains, and then she collapsed," Marion glanced over her shoulder at the farthest room. "We managed to get her stable, and she's had a healer with her at all times. We've been trying everything we can," her pleading blue eyes stared intently into mine.

"How long have you been up here?" I asked.

Glancing down at her watch she answered, "I don't know. Five, maybe six hours."

"Why don't you go get something to eat. Get some rest,okay? You look exhausted. I'll stay with her," I assured her.

"Thanks Logan," she sighed. "I'll send someone up for you. Do you want me to drop your stuff by your room?" Her eyes darted to my backpack, growing heavier by the minute on my back.

"No thanks," I readjusted the straps nonchalantly. "Just take care of yourself. You're no good as a healer when you have to be healed yourself."

She laughed at that, but only slightly, and with a tick of the clock on her wrist the smile faded. "Just holler if you need anything." She started towards the stairs only to glance back at me once she touched the railing. "Hey, Logan!"

I perked up.

"It's good to have you back," Marion smiled and vanished down the staircase.


End file.
